Proclaimed Pride
by Ai Ga Hoshii Dake
Summary: He didn't mind. After all, he is St. Joeseph Wheeler.


Disclaimer: Do I seem like the person to own YGO?

Don't answer that.

2nd Disclaimer: I don't own any brand-name products, TV shows, or stores mentioned in this fic. I'm too lazy to create my own names.

* * *

Hello everyone.

I'm Joseph Wheeler, or Joey preferably, for those of you who don't know me. My middle name is unimportant (and embarassing). I'm a stud muffin, heart-throb with a Brooklyn accent no girl can resist. You want tickets to my gun show? Hell, everyone does.

I'm also a card game enthusiast. I've gotten into many physical and verbal fights, my dad's a drunk, I've experimented with drugs and alchohol, I've punched my friends, I've ogled girls, and my number one rival is a six-foot rich snob.

But if you _foine_ people could look past all that right now, and looked at me, in this kitchen, in an apron no less, you'd simply come to one conclusion:

I am a freak**ing** saint. No lie.

I am St. Joseph Wheeler standing in front of a toaster, plate in hand, who has just gracefully caught a piece of toast from a fall.

"'Cause I'm a maaan. M-A-A-A-N! MAAAAN!"

Don't ask me how I quietly stayed in tune andsync with the cast of Smokey Joe's Café, I am one saint with skills. I gently set the plate down across from her's and slung the apron over my chair. I rain a hand through my hair (accidentally pulling out some blonde strands. Whoops) and tip-toed up the stairs. I approached a white wood door and knocked. No answer. Typical. I turned the knob and entered.

And there she was. Blankets strewn about the perimeter of her bed, brown hair sticking out in odd places on the pillow and across her face, and a tan bandage wrapped around her right ankle. It was no new site for me to see, she hasn't gotten up before me since I moved in four days ago.

"Téa? Téaaa?" I cooed. She grunted and lolled her head on the pillow. God she slept like a log. I approached the bed, stepping over various articles of clothing. I shook her shoulder and repeated her name. No answer.

Now I'd have to use my last resort. I gently cleared my throat.

"Good morning **BAAAAALLLLTTTIIIMMMMOOOORRRREEEEE**!!"

"HOLY CRAP** JOEY I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TWO TIMES GIVE A GIRL A BREAK**!!"

Eek. Hope we don't wake up the neighbors this early. Téa shot up and grabbed her alarm clock. I already knew that it was 6:30 in the morning. I did my part for world piece and clapped my hand over her mouth as she screamed a string of obscenities into my palm. When she was done I set the clock back down and helped her up. She aligned herself on one of her crutches and we steadily (more like tortoise-ly) moved down the stairs. Amazingly our toast wasn't cold by the time we got to the table.

But then again. I am a saint with skills.

* * *

Though my grades aren't perfect (very far from actually) it didn't take Kaiba-smarts (or lack thereof) to know that Téa was suffering from three things:

Summer heat.

A fractured ankle.

And worst of all, PMS. But despite all that, I still moved in to help her out after her accident. Yugi and Gramps went on some kind of Egypt tour in, y'know, Egypt. Tristain is attending some kind of family reunion or something, and I don't think Duke is set to withstand a Téa Rampage. He's got his own store to manage anyway. And Bakura is probably off doing something British-y with his Dad or something. He has has a smidge of a personality problem, so I don't think his help would've been accepted anyway.

Her parents were away on a Russian confrence. Pffft. Business people.

Her ankle was, of course, a dance-related injury. Something about a "incompetlant partner who can't dance for sheet" as I recall. So I decided to be the saint that I _totally_ am and move in to help her out, seeing as she couldn't really walk. Dad didn't give a rat's beehoinde, so here I am.

Win-win! And Téa had air conditioning too! Add an extra win to 'dat, baby! But there was also some side effects to put a damper on my mini-vacation from home. Y'know:

"Joooeeyyy," Téa whined. I looked over to where Téa sat at the kitchen table. Her hair was somewhat fixed now and I could see the pen being twirled in her right hand as those damned blue eyes were trying to break me. But I had been dealing with this far longer than since I moved in. My eye twitched. "Téa, you _do _see me sitting comfortably on this sofa watching TMZ right?" She just gave me another look. Goddammit. I turned off the TV.

"Whaaaat?" I moaned as I ambled over. She waved a fifty in front of my face. _Now_ she had my attention. "Can you tell me what this is Joey?"

"Why, the source of all happiness Téa," I eagerly replied. She exhaled sharply out of her nose and waved a small notebook page along with the bill. I knew what was coming. "And this Joey?"

"And _that_ Téa is a flimsy piece of firewood! Infact, its getting a _bit_ chilly, how about we get a nice, roaring fire going--"

She threw her keys at me and pointed to the door. I pouted my lip. She pointed with both fingers and I suddenly found myself standing on her stoop. I heard a _clunk_ and a **click. **I whipped out my phone and dialed the house number as I made my way to the Honda. "Hello?" I heard.

"Don't through your crutch at the door," I sneered.

Click. Awww. I drove away retort-less.

* * *

I stole a piece of minty gum from the stash in the glove compartment before reading over the list. I had gone food shopping two days before, and I was under a pact not to plow right through it like I normally do, so I knew what kind of list this was.

The kind of list that made me pull into a prime parking spot in front of CVS. Never know when you need a quick getaway.

I trudged out of the car, locked the thing (she'd have my head on a platter if it was stolen) and slowly approached the damning sliding doors. I entered, letting the breeze of the A/C be drowned out by a feminine smell and some kind of oldie tune. Every man in the store was accompanied by a chick, so I pretty much stood for all the males in the universe in here.

Gulp.

I shook my hair, trying to get it to cover my eyes, and looked over the list. Not that many things really, I counted four as I skimmed. She needed new bandages first, so I snatched up a basket and strolled down the aisles. This store was so filled with crap it blew my mind, minus the candy aisle. I immediately snatched three bags of chocolate. One for myself and two for that PMSing cripple back at 'da fort. I found the medical aisle and pulled out two boxes of bandages from the shelf. Next she needed some painkillers, so now I had to walk _all the freaking way_ to the next aisle to pick up some Tylenol.

I'm about to kill myself, wanna join in on 'da fun?

"Veet Rah-soar-ah? That some kinda foot cream?" I grumbled to myself, reading off the next item. Veet, feet. You'd probably draw the same conclusion if you were in my positon. I checked the medical aisle, no dice. Time for the handy-dandy cell phone! And yes, I do take pride in my laziness.

"Its shaving cream, not foot cream."

Click. Wow she's good.

It took me about five minutes of wandering the store but I finally found the stuff. I got her one with a pink top and a bunch of flowers on it, praying she wouldn't send me back for a different can of the stuff. I'm not a shaving-cream expert. I usually go by the "Best-Looking-Commercial" system. Works for me. I checked my list once more and--

Oh god. Ohhhh god. Strike me down now God. Let's go. Let me repent for my sins. For she wrote down the two words that, if you are a man shopping for a girl, gal, or chick, mean _death_, _despair_, and _total embarassment if there are witnesses._

**Pads and tampons**

**-Téa**

Me and Téa have been best friends since forever, and I'd do anything for her and vice versa, but I swear she loved to see me tortured. I stood before the dreaded aisle of, um, _girly things_, deciding wether to hightail it or swallow my pride for the sake of my dear, injured friend.

I bought TWO freaking when I went grocery shopping. Do those things have like, MULTI-USES?! Do they make good tissues or something? Rags? Confetti?

Hoo boy. Alrighty. Calm down Joey. You're a saint. You can do this. Just quietly step foward over to the sectionnn.

Okay. I'm facing them, and not a chick in sight. If a guy were to come see me right now, he'd understand my pain and keep walking. Yet it always seems a selected few women always just have to "_breeze by_" the aisle. D'Bitches. I slowly reached out and pulled a box of..._tamps..._...and set it down in the basket. But I made sure to cover it with the bags of chocolate, don't you fret. But the little package of pads happened to be in the back, and that was the kind Téa usually had me get.

Seriously, where are those suicide aids? C'mon fellas, own up!

I slid my arm into the space, careful not to bump into the rows of products shoved in on both sides. I am expecting some _serious_ compensation for 'dis. Aha, I got it! Now just to pull it out. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly...almost--

"WHIPPERSNAPPER!"

Yee-oink. Did the world just disinigrate or was that someone's voice? I had freed the package from the shelf, but I had also freed like, thirty other boxes to the floor. Mission failed.

I became face-to face (or rather, face-to-air) with a shrimpy hag, whom I was 2x her size. A mess of gray hair was glued to her skull (or maybe that was dandruff I was seeing) and her glasses were pretty much the side of her face making her beady eyes much more beady and evil. If she had a mouth or even a cheek bone, it was hidden beneath wrinkles. A red vest covered a purple turtle neck, and when I glimpsed at her chest (oh the horror) I could only conclude that this lady had not come to terms with this invention called a "bur-ah". Her name tag proudly proclaimed "Mai".

If the Mai I knew should _ever_ become _that_ then all hopes of us going out are officially squashed by Big Foot, eaten and spit back out. I must've had a really dumb look on my face (which I find to be, sadly, common) because she started up that really annyoing voice again.

"Young man, I don't know if you've taken a Health course yet," her voice made me want to slit my throat screaming in agony, "or if yer just DUMB but these things are fer' the ladies! And lookit what you did! 'Dese boxes all over 'der floor! You better shape up and clean up right now mister!" she hollered. My gum fell out in shock and fell onto one of the boxes. Plop.

"YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE WHIPPERSNAPPER!" and I suddenly found the gum stuck to my nose., a bony finger stretched before my face. I'd bite it but did want a slow, poison death? Yes I did, but not from her finger. "Now you kneel down there sonny and fix up those boxes right quick or I'ma haul you out those doors m'self! I'll be **_back_**."

Kneel? Oh, she just meant to pick up the boxes. Creepy old ladies...

The bag hobbled away, snatching a magazine from the pharmacy rack and dissapearing into the employee area, leaving me surrounded by boxes of things I'd rather not discuss at 'da moment. I peeled the gum from my nose, stuck it under the shelf, and knelt before the mess. I could hear giggles from around the corner, and out of the corner of my eye I could see girls hiding behind shelves staring. Mission seriously failed. But I'd show them. I set my basket aside, and shoved boxes all of the boxes in the shelves as fast as I could before making a dash to the check out corner.

Hell to the yeah. Take THAT girlies. That was a taste of my gun show, ya like?

I know you did.

"Next please," a bored clerk called out. I raced over and dumped the contents of my basket on the counter. "I'm in a rush ma'm," I explained. She rolled her eyes and smacked her gum in my face. For what seemed like ten minutes (I seriously had to split if you catch mah drift) before every thing was bagged and in my hand. I had just dropped the basket off by the door when she blew.

"JUMPIN' JEHEOSEPHATS!"

If I didn't know any better I'd say I flew right into the driver's seat. When I turned back to look, she was there with an utterly evil look on her glasses. I made eye contact first, then flipped her off, and then I threw everything behind me before screeching out of the parking lot and down the highway.

But I caught my breath finally when I pulled into the driveway. I looked down both ways of the street, just for precaution, before opening the back seat. The boxes were jumbled along the seat but I'd rather them then my guts splattered along the parking lot. Death by product scanner didn't seem very joyous.

I stumbled in, still a bit out of breath and Téa was curled up on the couch looking actually innocent for once these past few days. She raised her eyebrow. "What took you so long?"

I let the bag drop to the floor before I pointed an accusing finger at her. "You will **NEVER** make me shop there again!"

* * *

I carefully explained the horror I experienced at CVS as I rewrapped the bandage of her foot. She merely nodded and listened, though I could tell she thought it was a load of crock. I'd have to drag her to CVS soon. I got her settled on the couch and fixed an icepack on her foot was I popped in a horror flick. While it wasn't the most thrilling one I'd ever seen, I could tell she wasn't focusing on his. She was staring down at her legs. Was she staring at her foot? I couldn't tell.

"'Ey Téa, you upset about yer foot? It'll get better, I mean sure it'll hurt for--" she cut me off by shaking her head.

"No that's not it, it's just," she bit her lip. Then what was she staring at? As far as I could tell her legs were fine. Long, slender, and fine. They were stretched out, resting on a pedestal. Really stretched out. Hey, I'm a dude. I have hormones too.

"C'mon, spill," I urged her. She bit her lip harder and pointed to her shin. As far as I could tell it was fine, but we had pulled down the shades and turned out the lights. I turned the switch on the tableside lamp and leaned it. Don't tell me she was serious--

"Téa you kiddin' me? It's just a little hair, ain't nothing compared to mine--"

"But Joey its sooo gross and I'm gonna have this wrap on for atleast another five days before a new check up and its really gross and the doctor might think its gross and I'll keep looking and--"

I slapped my hand over her mouth. She was rambling again. I slowly made eye contact, ready for what was gonna come next. "Do you want me to...help shave your legs?"

She squirmed in her seat, which I took as a yes. Before she could get out her "Eep!" I had picked her up bridal style and placed her on the bathroom counter top. I pulled out the can from the medicine cabinet as she rolled up her yoga pants. I ripped open the plastic container, got a Spongebob band-aid for my finger, and popped open the lid. But it seemed out of place. "Uh Téa, the razor has no blade," I pointed out. "Its not supposed to," she replied. "Then how else do emo kids slit their wrists?" I challenged. She gave me a painful flick on my forhead before bending over and spraying some cream onto her leg. I realigned her posture and knelt before her. She seemed shocked when I gently started to rub the cream on, stopping just short of the bandage.

We wouldn't tell her, but she was seriously pissed off when she hurt her foot. Dancing _is_ her life, and between her parents hardly ever being around and her suddenly being crippled, well, she needed a friend. Bad. We were all a little family, wether some of us manly members would admit so or not. Téa kept us grounded, and I didn't really mind being the saint that I am.

"Joey?"

"Yeah?"

She squirmed a bit.

"You're welcome Téa," I told her. She smiled softly.

I rinsed the leftovers off my hands and dried them. "Alright, now what?" I asked.

"Now we wait for eight minutes for the cream to work," she explained coolly."Say WHAT now? I gotta sit in a bathroom for eight minutes before this stuff work? Why can'tcha just use a regular razor?!"

"Do you want me to cut myself and bleed to death?!" she asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I smacked my forehead and sat down on the floor. An awkward silence passed before it became too overwhelming for me.

"So, anything in mind while we wait?"

She got this evil smile as she stared off into the mirror. "You're not gonna sing me a Broadway tune?"

* * *

It came to me while I was shaving _my_ legs so I decided to just write it down. Not much.

R&R

-AGHD


End file.
